The Sad Tale of Polecat
by Sea and Chaos
Summary: The city-scape of Moscow was nice at night, even though it was a bit scary at night. At fourteen, Yuri Plisetsky was used to walking these streets alone, but even then he does not expect his kidnapping and subsequent torture. And he certainly does not expect the changes that come about.


**AN: Yo. So, this wasn't that expected. But, I read Flying High, Adored and was inspired and encouraged. So, here we are. Please DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T READ Flying High, Adored. THIS WILL NOT MAKE SENSE. THIS IS FOR miss-terra-incognita'S SUPERHERO AU. Okay, hope that got your attention. Also, you know, torture, but if you've read it you should expect it.**

 **I do not own Yuri! On Ice, and this wonderful AU is miss-terra-incognita's.**

 **Giada Draven, out!**

The city-scape of Moscow was nice at night, even though it was a bit scary at night. At fourteen, Yuri Plisetsky was used to walking these streets alone, even though he wished that at least one of the other skaters would force him to go with them. It wasn't that he hated the walk, or wanted to rely on anyone, but to get to his grandpa he had to go through a rough neighborhood.

Despite this, he would not change his circumstances. He loved his grandpa, and he loved the rink (though Yakov seemed to yell at him every chance available).

This was his favorite street, completely dark with no windows to break the pitch black. Right in the middle, he heard the sound of shuffling, and assumed it was some drunkard staggering home. Then, there was lights and he couldn't see for the brightness. A cloth, stinking worse than anything, pressed against his mouth and he was gone.

What he could only assume was hours later (and how long did chloroform last, exactly?), he was in a concrete room, all gray and boring, terrifying. There was no door, no windows, there didn't even seem to be a way for new oxygen to get into the room. Finally what seems like hours later, and Yuri somehow not dying of oxygen deprivation, a piece of the wall slide back and into itself to reveal a team of men in labcoats, one holding a clipboard and the rest hiding things behind their backs.

"Why am I here?" Yuri snapped, always having been snarky but fear making him hide it behind rude comments.

The main doctor shakes his head, looking to the one on the main end and nodding. Said man walks forward and pulls out a needle. It wasn't very large, nor should it be as menacing as it was, but seeing as it was filled with a luminous green liquid, and aimed at his arm, Yuri felt he had a right to be scared.

"Hey! Stop! Don't get near me with that thing, you creep!" He backed away, hitting the wall within seconds. He began kicking, punching, slapping, trying anything to get away, but was frozen for a moment when the needle sunk in and the plunger was slowly pushed down. The moment after, the room was filled with his screams.

Days later, for it couldn't have been any less with how many needles were pushed in his arms and legs, and how long he screamed and writhed, he woke once again from the latest bout of unconsciousness. It seemed that it was the equivilant to night, because the mysterious lighting of the room was dimmed to near blackness. It didn't take long, however, for the same doctor with the clipboard to open the door once more.

"Bitch," Yuri snarled, voice only slightly croaking as he strained not to wince. His throat was raw, and it was hard to breath from soreness. The doctor tsked, this being the first sound he had made in all of his visits, before prowling slowly around the room to observe Yuri from all angles.

Snarling, Yuri lept up and swiped with his nails; however, his limbs were weak and burning and his nails had been clipped to nothing so that he didn't have the urge to bite them. He fell limply to the ground, not hearing the scientist (because a doctor would not _experiment_ like this) leave and seal him into his prison.

For days, weeks, months, he couldn't tell anymore, this continued. Yuri refused to give up, he wouldn't scream while his insides were burning, he would kick and punch with his limbs hanging limply. It didn't take long before his scratches to start doing damage, and they tied his hands together. Of course, he would move his hands so that he could still try, but the doctors knew to expect it. They bound him to a table not long after the tail appeared.

He didn't remember being fed, or allowed to the bathroom. All he remembered was pain, and fighting back, even when he couldn't even move. His chest constantly felt as if it was being torn apart and shredded every time they tried something new. His legs shifted and stretched. His throat burned, and his head pounded, and his eyes seemed to try and gouge themselves out. And his hands were on fire constantly, the skin of his fingertips shredding itself until the nails twisted, changed.

Finally, after what seems to be an eternity in his pain addled minds, there are screams that are not his own. Shuffling, and then thuds. The door slides open in silence, and the first color Yuri sees is a burgundy mask over blue-ice eyes.

Turns out, he's been gone for six months, and the skating world has moved on even as Yakov is concerned about him. He can't return to skating. The hero who saved him, Snowcap, returned him to his grandfather. He didn't leave his room for a week. He took to wearing hoodies and baggy sweatpants, hiding the changes from his time as an experiment. The hood, thankfully, was accepted and no one knew about his new ears. His tail curled around his leg, and no one was any the wiser.

It took a while, but he finally managed to catch Snowcap on the roof of the ice rink. Said man nearly fell off the building. Yuri smirked, and the rest was a history filled with curses and attempted coddling. Oh, and crime fighting.


End file.
